Bonds of Hatred
by Stradavari
Summary: My first wow fanfic, please bare with me, let me know if I muss up any of the timelines. Spanning from just before the surrender of the belfs and forming of the Scryers, until just past the death of the lichking. Following Zorna,a drenaei whos family is slaughtered in the war- sets out to become a hero, and Saerys, a blood elf lost in darkness. M for explicit content.


Zorna had spent the last three years of her life training herself in the wildlands of the marsh. With no siblings, and mostly only her mother to mind her, with her father off to war, her family would have been one of the last to be murdered on the path to the City of Light. Or at least what was left of it.

She had watched her father slowly change, his body twisting with malefic power with each trip he returned home from the front lines. The various armies pouring through the dark portal and the

inhabitants of the desecrated temple rippling outwards took no heed to

the destruction they left in their wake.

His eyes no longer had the soft blue hue that reminded her of the stories her mother told of the sky that was. Before everything had changed.

'You are too young Zorna' Her father would say, every time he returned. She begged to go with him, her mother ever quiet while she cleaned the blood from his armor. Then after the meal, and everyone tucked away in their alcoves for sleep, she could her hear mother and father whispering to each other in the dark.

'And you are too old Torran, do not go out again' She pleaded. 'These battles are changing you, you are not the Draenei you once were, leave the fighting to those stronger'.

'I must, Meena. I fight to protect our family and our homeland. The Spires of the City of Light themselves are in danger. If it is taken, all is lost'.

And so her father set out one last time. This time he did not return.

Zorna spent each day from the rise of the first sun, to the setting of the last on the edges of the great marsh before returning to their hut. Her mother wanted her to gather up the herbs from the marsh,

something with which they could use to trade for currency if they should need to flee and take refuge in the City.

Zorna cared little for the herbs. What she wanted was to fight back, like her father. Her mother had been a priestess in her younger years, and taught what she could of healing to Zorna, when she could sit still long enough for the teaching. She had the basics of the healing touch, enough to prevent bleeding out, something Zorna felt would be useful on a battlefield. The only other spell that she had any passable skill in was cleansing. This she used on the bog creatures of the marsh. Each day she would find one in the small group living on the edge of the forest and carefully subdue one long enough for it to be cleansed. Once gentled and returned from the tainted madness, it would allow her to carefully pluck one of the rare herbs secreted along the cracks of vine and bark forming its body.

The mists lay heavy over the ground and clung to every surface in the moldering warmth of the marshlands. Zorna had crept out early, before dawn, and could barely see her hooves as they made soft impressions in the damp soil. A Marshfang chittered in the distance. She coaxed down a floating spore that glowed softly orange in the gloom. It was more for company then for guidance, for she knew every patch of dirt and murk around her home. Though the sky was naught more then a soft glow of grey, she knew one of the suns would crest the mountains towards the redlands shortly.

Ah there was old Brokentooth. It didn't actually have teeth, any more then it had a name, but she had grown attached to her little herd of swamp-dwellers. She moved her herb basket to be crooked by her tail as she raised her hands to gently sooth the beast. It seemed more agitated then usual, as if something had spooked it. If one of the twisted children of the Broken village nearby had been throwing rocks again...

She heard the wet snap of a twig behind her and whirled to face the sound. In the mist she could just make out a pair of eyes which were trying to hide behind the trunk of a mushroom tree. Trying, though the stranger did not know the lay of the land as well as she, nor had much sense of direction in the murk.

Zorna could feel the prickle of gooseflesh along the nape of her neck. The years she had spent in the swamp did not teach her much in the way of fighting, but she knew how to run. The bog beast beside her reared. Vines twisting and snarling outwards. She ducked under an arm and ran.

The glowing eyes disappeared in the landscape slowing emerging from darkness. Zorna continued to run. She could hear the howls of Brokentooth behind her as her feet scutted through the mossy underbrush. She made for a large growing mushroom, and with her hooves and belt knife, carved into it's flesh for purchase and began to climb.

A last slow groan huffed from her beloved pet somewhere in the distance. Off to the right she could hear a short bark of laughter and voices in an unfamiliar tongue. Soldiers. She could tell by the sounds of their armor as they stomped through the muck. She climbed higher as the mist began to clear.

Whatever she had seen earlier in the bog must have been an advance scout. It was likely returning this way to it's comrades. She should be safe enough in the mushroom tree if she could just climb a bit higher.

She clung to this thought even as she heard the wet thunk of something beneath her feet. She glanced down. Throwing knives were embedded in a spiral upwards towards her location.

Zorna only managed a small gasp in surprise as the wind was knocked from her with a sharp blow to her stomach. Falling, and then darkness.

Time meant nothing. It could have been minutes or hours since she lost consciousness. She could feel the wet ground soaking her tunic. A slap to the face woke her from her stupor. Those glowing green eyes again. This time in a shapely tanned face of an elf. Blood elves. She hissed at it and tried to scramble away backwards. He hadn't even bothered to tie her up. She felt a flush of shame, knowing how weak she was in comparison, he hadn't considered her much of a foe.

'Where is the gold?' The strange inflection of speech came from the elf as he stepped on her ankle causing it to bend unnaturally. She could not move further.

'What?' she stuttered, surprised to hear the common tongue from this elf.

'Where is the gold?' He stepped down on her foot harder causing the rude angle to send spikes of pain up her calf.

She studied him carefully, it was best to learn the enemy and recognize him for what he is. His skin shimmered from magic abuse, which caused the eerie green of his eyes. His hair was dark and matted about his face, though short it held the dampness of sweat and marsh air. She could imagine it would be soft when dry. His form was lithe, taller then her own, though unlikely taller then her mother, and shorter then her father when he was in his prime. Clad almost entirely in black leather, one hand sitting on the many knives crisscrossed on his vest to sit at his waist. His face mask had been ripped away during the fight with the bog beast. A long angry welt cut his cheek and dripped blood. She would have thought him almost too pretty, but for the dark look in his eyes. Long eyebrows twitched as he roughly kicked her again.

'Where. Is. The. Gold'. He snarled.

She only had one valuable on her, the ring on her tail, passed down from her grandmother. Perhaps it would be enough. Her fingers moved shakily to her side as she whimpered from the pain. She rolled to the side to get off her tail. His foot lifted from her ankle and suddenly she felt a knee in the small of her back. Her tail lashed frantically as she panicked. Wet leather grabbed her by the tail. She could feel the gloves work at removing the ring. It was horrible, a Draenei's tail was private, you simply did not touch someone's tail. She fought the urge to vomit, instead crying hot tears of shame as he ripped the gold from her.

His knee lifted and she rolled over quickly. He was casually opening his belt pouch to stuff the booty in. That's when she noticed the gleam and design of her mother's necklace hanging over the edge of the leather.

Rage consumed her. She leaped for the pouch to snatch at the necklace. She screamed defiance at him even as the elf laughed and kicked her in the head. Blackness again. The necklace had been a wedding present from her father. It was the only jewel her mother had left. The rest had been donated to the war effort. Now her mother had nothing.

This time when Zorna woke, she knew it had been hours. The moons were in the sky, glowing softly, rippling light over the black marsh lakes. The blood from the wound on her head had scabbed and dried stiff, matting her long blue hair. Her body felt bruised everywhere, her ankle was definitely sprained. Brushing herself off and shivering from the wet clothes, she limped home.

There were no lights on in the small hut. Perhaps her mother had gone out searching for her. She hoped not, the forest was dangerous now with the elven army on the doorstep to the City of Light.

The door was ajar, the latch broken. Zorna pushed past it, shoving the flipped table out of the way. There was glass everywhere crunching under her hooves. She found the candles in the bottom drawer one she righted the small cabinet.

And then she could place that revolting smell of iron. There was blood almost everywhere. Spattered in sheets across the walls, and pooling by the bed. She was choked by the smell. Choked by the rage. And choked by the irony that someone had placed her mothers body gently on the bed and folded her arms. There was no mistaking that she was sleeping. Her clothing had been torn, there was slash marks through her dress and into her flesh. She had been brutally murdered, and then robbed.

She wanted to laugh, to howl and to slash things. That bastard had slaughtered the remains of her life, and then toyed with her and left her alive.

She screamed in rage and threw herself at her mother's body. Her fists pounded at the rigid dead flesh. 'How could you! How could you leave me and die like this. Why didn't you fight back!'

It was not until morning that she had fully exhausted her tears. Nothing was left for her but cold rage. She took nothing with her as she set out on the path that would lead her to the City of Light. She would join the war now. Her mother be damned.


End file.
